Most Liked Allegory Poems (898)

The whispering white crept through the night
The cold gnawed right to the bone
The eerie hue of cobalt blue
Gave shadows a life of their own

The rider and horse stayed their course
Ice drooped from bridle and brim
While waves of snow continued to grow
Making trails heavy and dim

Vapors were steamin' and lungs were screamin'
Icy spears penetrated inside
Limbs paid the cost as fingers of frost
Gave warmth no place to hide

Toward they surged and soon emerged
In a labyrinth of pine scented bough
A welcome respite from the hellish cold night
Where the norther continued to howl

Out of the weather he unhitched the leather
And of branches he made a soft bed
His thirst was slaked from the melting of flakes
The warming flames danced orange and red

Another dusk; another dawn, the storm raged on
A savage but hypnotic symphony
A wild moan and whistle that made life bristle
Entombed in all that white canopy

The winter has passed, it's spring at long last
Summer's heat has made its yearly call
And night becomes longer; winds seem to get stronger
Caressing trees and leaves start to fall

Old Sol in the sky marks years passing by
A century has come and gone
A Bible's pages have yellowed through ages
Listing those born and those who've passed on

A blurred entry remarked on page three
Of a grandfather missing along the way
Never resolved and this mystery unsolved
Puzzles all to this very day

In a thicket of pine grown up over time
Rest the bones of horse and rider unknown
And in the cold of December folks pause to remember
A cowboy who didn't get home.

A crisp new canvas on the easel
An untouched meadow, snowy white,
We pause to choose our palette,
To what tales our tracks may write.

So rest awhile.
Reflect a bit,
Start your New Year slow
Lest rage and passion of bygone days,
Stain crimson on the snow.

Choose the path that suits you best,
Paint with colors that will last!
For the future lies unblemished
By the errors of the past.

A field of bright diamonds
Sparkles, shine and glow
First rays of dawn,
Crisp, new fallen snow

A New Day
A new year
A fresh page bright and clean
Fresh snow on the meadow,
Not a track to be seen.

May your horse always guide you
May your saddle fit just right
May you count your New Year's Blessings
In the wondrous stars so bright

May you ride in peace and safety
Wherever you may roam
May you drink when you are thirsty
The love of Heart and Home

May your inner sense guide you
When the path becomes too steep
For the Good shepherd watches over you
Just look for the light and leap!

This life's been a grand undertaking
On a long and tortuous trail;
Emotions and dreams kept us floating
Like ships breaking waves at full sail.

We've partaken of visual wonders...
Watched the trout rise to harvest a fly-
While mountains-- shaken by thunder-
Flashed neon beneath a lightning framed sky.

We've thrilled at the elk's lusty whistle
Marveled at spots on a fawn;
Then, quick as a shot from a pistol;
These symbols of freedom were gone.

We've rigged a team in dray trappings,
Sowed joy from a buckboard behind,
Motivated by multitudes clapping,
In response to old ballads aligned.

We've sought the fruits of the forest
Those ravaged and gutted by man,
Whose intentions- not always purest,
Embrace his municipal plan.

We've seen sections of lush vegetation
Which loss we may never atone,
Yield to a civilization...
To asphalt, skyscrapers and stone.

Ox wagons, once truly symbolic..
A vestige of migrations West
Wore wheels that proceeded the frolic
Of autos man soon would possess.

Songs written in delicate sonnets
Harmonized in a warm hearted swoon,
Emphasized a pure life on the planet-
While rockets raced up to the moon.

We've seen the invincible humbled
Our century nearly half gone,
From the full bloom of youth we have stumbled
And still time marches on.

Now fanatics die by the legion;
They call this, "Allegiance to God",
Others leap to defend each his region;
It's the righteous who bloody the rod!

It's peculiar the road we've traveled
And no doubt we'll traverse it again
Do not bolt as the world comes unraveled,
But, drive on, for great goodness remains.

There's a race of men who don't fit in
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin
And they roam the world at will.

They range the field, they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of wandering feet
And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight up they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they are always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.

They say: "Could I find my proper groove.
What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled
Forgets that his time is past,
Until he stands one day, with a hope gone dead
In the glare of the truth at last.

He's failed, he's failed, he's missed his chance
He has done just things by half,
Life's just been a jolly good joke on him ,
And now's the time to laugh.

Ha! Ha! He is one of the Legion lost;
He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone
He's a man who won't fit in.

Why should the spirit of mortals be proud?
Like a quick speeding meteor
A fast moving cloud!


A flash of lightning
A break of the wave,
Man passed from life
To rest in his grave.

Let pride go, lest shame follow after

Our pride, reasoning pride
Our error does lie
All quit their spheres
And rush to the skies.

Pride still aiming at blessings that abode,
Men would be angels,
Angels would be gods.

In the quiet of the morning
And the sky is clear and white
And dawn's soft hush has slipped
Across the solitude of night

When the last pale star has fallen
And the East's a rosy glow
Streak with lavenders and orchids
With a touch of indigo

When the colors are all blending
There is no defining each
And the sun peeps up appearing
Like some plump and pinkish peach

There is nothing quite so moving
Quite so silent, quite so strange
As the Lord's most recent wonder-
Birth of morning on the range

I can't quite seem to fathom-
I can't help wondering why-
I was placed among such beauty
All this solitude and sky

Now I see you ride before me,
As my feet trod earthly sod,
I watch you vanish in the sunrise
Go With God!

The Western trails bore longhorn
Over oceans of grass plain
And cowboys rode like captains
Through waves of sun and rain

4-inch brims and rowelled spurs
Along with chaps and latigo
Matching leather on face and saddle
Of a seasoned, working pro

Some say the era of the cowboy
Is but a faded dream at best
But that independent spirit
Remains the heartbeat of the West

Miles removed from concrete jungles
On open vistas kissed by sun
Modern cowboys ride the range
Just like those days the West was won

So word and song is raised in honor
To everyone who bears the flame
Who stokes the fire of admiration
For a life no one will tame.

Nights of mysteries and feelings,
Nights of dreams and plays, and vice,
Nights of musings and misgivings,
Nights of skies overcast with stars.
Nights of colds and chills, and quivers,
Nights of pleasure, grace and love,
Nights of treasures beyond measure
Of the verse made one by one.
Nights of darkness, pierced with candles,
Flames that flicker in the night.
Nights of sadness, thoughts of people
Friends and lovers that have died.
Nights we pass in tranquil leisure,
Nights we pass in raging lust,
Nights that give us heavenly pleasure,
Nights that last in toil and fast.

Night, my friend, please hearken to wish,
Just give me peace of mind and sound sleep.